


Should Have Been a Brewery

by Ruslan Stetson Durai (RumpelstiltskinIX)



Series: Beyond the Tavern Talk [1]
Category: Final Fantasy Tactics
Genre: Chocobos, Death, Gallionne, Gang Violence, Gariland, Gen, Gustav Margriff - Freeform, Magic City Gariland, Minor Violence, Robbery, Short, Shorts, Smuggling, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 08:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11733771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumpelstiltskinIX/pseuds/Ruslan%20Stetson%20Durai
Summary: Based off the various rumors Ramza and Co. would hear across various taverns.CHAPTER ONE based off:'The Death Corps'"Robberies are on the rise and Gallionne is no exception. Wagon hijackings and abductions are rampant. Now a group of former criminals and mercenaries, called the "Death Corps," have been making the most trouble for the Hokuten."





	Should Have Been a Brewery

Vallombrosa Gage tugged at the edge of her glove, gaze fixed on the muddied hem of her skirt. This wasn’t the kind of acts her family resorted to, but here she was. Sitting over boxes of malboro tentacles hidden only by its rose-scented case and the stacks of tied golden needles piled atop of it. She could already see it vividly: the carriage drawing up to Gariland’s gates, and an especially surly guard beckoning her out as he insisted on inspecting the cargo. She would do her best to look anywhere but the box, but it would be to no avail; even in the dead of night, that surly guard’s eye would home in on the slightest dips between the stacks and dive his armored fingers straight in for the poisonous parcels.

There was an abrupt bump, and her heeled boots braced against the box to keep the box from slipping; a force of habit after so many shipments of various solutions in a bottle. If their family had chosen to brew wine instead of potions, she was certain they’d be leading a much simpler existence right now. No one reached for an antidote when their brother had just been slit from chest to neck, but they certainly did reach for a wine. She knew she still did.

She heard the coach, Einhardt, curse and slap the side of the carriage.

“Damned trees everywhere on this road,” she heard him mutter.

She sighed and picked up her skirts, stepping out of the passenger door. Tightening the tie of her hat firm against her neck, Vallombrosa rolled up her sleeves and slid her dainty gloves into her apron. Her hands were already chafed from last time they’d had to shove the cart over a fallen tree, not to mention the three times before then. She’d never seen anything like it.

A storm, perhaps.

“I can’t believe this,” he muttered as he tied the chocobos’ reins to a tree limb.

“On the count of three,” she said, letting out a long breath. “One... two... three!”

They pushed hard with their backs, and her wheel went over before Einhardt managed to shove his. His bushy mustache seemed to take on a frown of its own, a frown over a frown. She scowled, and then nodded to the wheel. She took the outside of the wheel, using her weight to keep the wheel straight, and they both hefted it up and over.

She wiped her brow and straightened her sleeves back out, pulling on her gloves.

“Brosa!” Einhardt sharply whispered from the side of his mouth.

She looked over, then up. Two men and a woman, rough looking with worn clothes and even more worn boots. One man had an arrow notched and pointed at Einhardt, while the other had his hand on the pommel of his sword. The woman had her sword in one hand, and both the chocobos’ reins in her other.

“Maiden’s breath!” she heard a rough, low voice call, voice muffled by the carriage’s walls. “Nothing gets me going like a maiden’s breath!”

“Then you must be quite the toad!” she shouted back, voice cracking with terror as her heart hammered and hands shook.

One of the men before her let out a nasally laugh. It was as though they robbed faster than the mind could truly follow. This was how her brother had died, surrounded by lawless men and women who cared only for the contents of a livelihood’s trip. Lawless men and women... what was she thinking? She too numbered amongst the lawless men and women, smuggling poison into Gallionne.

“Please,” she begged, fighting back tears. “Take what you want. Take it all. Just spare us our lives.”

“We’ve got a generous one here,” the archer taunted. “Let’s see it, then. Your stuff on the ground.”

Vallombrosa gulped, then undid her coinpurse from her belt. She tossed it to the archer, who still had his arrow poised on Einhardt. Gil spilled out at his feet. His gaze dropped down as the swordsmen squatted to collect it.

Einhardt made a break for it. Vallombrosa broke into a dash, her hat flying off. She heard a ‘hiss’, followed by a ‘plunk’ and a scream. She couldn’t bring herself to slow down or look back.

She didn’t want to die like her brother.


End file.
